Leaving Love
by nabawrites
Summary: Clark is done living like this, so he decides to leave the planet. Bruce shows up on his last night in Metropolis to try and convince him to stay.


Leaving Love - Oneshot

Clark was packing up some things to put in storage. He was selling most of his stuff because he couldn't exactly carry a suitcase with him through space. Clark still wanted to put some things away for safekeeping at the family farm in Kansas, for when he came back to visit family, and just in case he decided to come back permanently.

The suitcase was nearly full when the window of his apartment was opened from the outside and Batman swung in. Clark sighed in resignation. He was really hoping he wouldn't run into him before he left. Especially him.

Batman closed the window behind him and turned back to Clark, yanking down his cowl to reveal the man beneath the mask. Clark found it only made him more angry, not less, having to look Bruce in the eye.

"What are you doing, Clark?"

Rolling his eyes, Clark went back to packing. "You tell me, World's Greatest Detective."

Bruce sighed. "It looks like you're packing."

Clark nodded, pretending to look impressed. "Wow, I guess you're as good as they say you are."

Bruce growled low in his throat. "Why are you leaving, Clark? Tell me."

"Why should I? You wouldn't have told me."

Bruce eyebrows furoughed, and Clark cursed to himself because an expressive Bruce is not the Bruce Clark needed to show up tonight. "Is that why you're leaving? You're angry because there's something you think I'm keeping from you or lying to you about? That doesn't make sense, Clark. If I was keeping something from you, it wouldn't surprise you, and you wouldn't be this angry, angry enough to leave the planet, your parents, and everything else behind."

Clark shook his head dismissively, trying to ignore Bruce. He didn't have time to talk things out, to explain. He needed to leave. Now.

"Clark, there isn't a single thing I can think of that you've asked me in the last three years that I've lied to you about. I don't hide things from you either. Unless it's extremely personal, but that's different. I tell you everything, Clark, anything that has to do with you. Hell, I even tell you about Connor, even though you've specifically said you don't care."

Clark just sighed and kept packing, hoping, but not expecting, that Bruce would give up and leave.

"Is that why you're leaving? Please tell me you aren't leaving the planet to escape your responsibility as Connor's father."

Clark glared at Bruce. "I'm not his father. I didn't choose him."

"Your parents didn't exactly choose you either when you crashed into their barn as a baby, did they?"

Clark opened his mouth to reply, but when he didn't have one he shut it again and scowled, continuing to place things with sentimental value in the suitcase. After a moment, Clark spoke. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not leaving the planet because of Connor. He's a good kid. This has nothing to do with him."

"Then what does it have to do with? Please, Clark. Are you angry at me? What did I do?"

Clark shook his head roughly, ignoring the glimpse of sadness in Bruce's usually flat, emotionless voice. "I'm not angry at you, Bruce."

Bruce sighed harshly. "Well you're angry about something." When Clark turned to grab something from a shelf, Bruce caught his bicep. Clark growled and grabbed his arm, pushing him against the wall and pinning him there by his wrists.

The smallest flash of shock crossed Bruce's face before his expression evened out. His heartbeat returned to normal as well after a second of increased pace. Clark searched his face, looking for some trace of emotion besides calm confidence. "You don't look very scared, Bruce," he growled out.

"That's because I'm not scared of you."

Clark scoffed. "You don't think I can hurt you?"

Bruce shook his head. "I know you can, Clark. Physically. But I can tell you won't. You wouldn't. And if you did hurt me, it would be because I deserved it. You don't cause unnecessary pain, Clark. That's not you."

Bruce's words didn't calm him down at all. They simply made him more angry. How could Bruce know him so well and still be so oblivious?

Bruce continued before Clark could say a word. "Did I do something to deserve pain, Clark? Did I hurt you somehow? Because if so, tell me. If so, hurt me. Do it. I won't fight back. I can't really do that. I purposefully wore my old suit. I can't wear no suit, that defeats the purpose of a secret identity. But I wore my weaker one."

"If I hurt you, Clark, then hurt me back. If you're angry, at me or someone else, then take it out on me. Hit me, kick me, throw me through the wall. Beat me to a bloody pulp. Do whatever you want to do. If it'll calm you down, if it'll make you stay, then do anything you want to me. Anything. I am completely at your mercy. As long as you stay."

Clark's eyes went wide as he stared at Bruce, not sure how to feel about this. After a moment, he released Bruce's wrists and stepped back. "Damn it, Bruce." Clark took another step back and sat on the edge of the bed. "This. This is why I have to leave."

Bruce clearly didn't understand because he came over and sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his lower back. Clark sighed, grateful when Bruce didn't say anything. "You just had to go and fo that, didn't you? Every time I think I can leave, every time I start to pack and I make plans and I know for sure I'm going to do it, you do something like this. Not on purpose, not always, but every time it's the same. You, offering yourself up like a sacrifice on behalf of the world for the sake of the greater good. I always think I can leave this, leave you, and then you go and make it damn near impossible. Giving me free reign on you, on your body... Saying I can do whatever I want to you as long as Superman stays."

Bruce's thumb rubbed soothing circles into Clark's back, a reminder that he was there. Clark almost didn't notice how intimate it felt. Usually, Bruce refrained from touching people, and when he did touch, it was a shoulder or a bicep or a pat on the upper back. Clark leaned into the touch. "So Clark Kent stays. I ne-" Bruce stopped himself and swallowed before continuing. "The world needs all of you, not just half."

"You want to know why I have to leave, Bruce? I have to leave because of you." Clark heard Bruce's breath hitch. A normal human wouldn't have been able to hear it, but Clark did. Bruce's thumb stopped moving and his hand pulled back slightly. He let it hover there, fingertips brushing against him, waiting to see when he could put it back.

"I have to leave because of you, Bruce. You are my Kryptonite." He looked over to see Bruce staring at him with an immeasurable sadness in his eyes, the most open that Clark had ever seen him. It took some effort to keep his breathing normal, seeing Bruce look so much more vulnerable than ever before.

"You know what Kryptonite does to me, Bruce. And you do the same thing." Clark made himself look away again. "You make my knees weak just by being in the same room. I feel like I can't breath every time you look at me. You cloud my senses. Before you got here tonight, I could hear every conversation, every cough, every snore in a pretty big radius. Right now," Clark glanced over at Bruce for a second before looking away quickly, "all I can hear is your heartbeat. Rao, Bruce, you make me so weak all the time. And I can't afford that, to be weak. You are my weakness, Bruce. Having you here, being near me, it hurts all the time. I can't keep living like this. If I can't have all of you, then I need to get away from you, because this weakness isn't an option."

Clark looked back over at Bruce, only to find his features had softened from the hard sadness. He suddenly looked very fond, almost... affectionate toward Clark and his heart sped up a bit. "You're my Kryptonite, Bruce. And it's killing me."

Bruce gave him a small smile. "You're my cinnamon."

Clark furoughed his eyebrows. "What?"

"I'm allergic to cinnamon, Clark. Deathly allergic. No one knows but Alfred, because my allergy is so strong that if the wrong person knew they could kill me in minutes. Use it against me. So I keep it secret. When I get even a whiff of cinnamon in my lungs or in my food, my throat starts closing up and I can't breathe. There are other effects too, to my heart, and my brain. Without proper medical attention, I die in exactly two minutes and twelve seconds."

Clark gave him a dubious look. "So, what you're saying is that I suffocate you."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "No. I'm saying that whenever we're in the same room, my breath catches in my throat and I feel like I can't breathe. My heart speeds up and it aches in my chest. I can't think when I'm around you. I'm saying you're my weakness, my biggest weakness, and if the wrong person found out, they could use you against me, to hurt me. Or Batman, since I'm pretty sure he's in love with Superman as much as I'm in love with you." Clark's breath caught in his throat as Bruce gave him an amused smile. "You're my weakness, Clark, so I haven't told anyone. Alfred knows because he's as much of a ninja as I am. He knows everything, I swear. It's frustrating, actually. Alfred, you, and me are the only ones who know about my allergy. And now Alfred, you, and me are the only ones who know how desperately in love with you I am."

Clark swallowed thickly, feeling his heart race in his chest, matching the pace of Bruce's heart pounding in his ears. He cupped the back of Bruce's head with his hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Bruce kissed him back immediately, and they moved their lips along each other. Bruce licked along Clark's lip and dove his tongue into his mouth when his lips parted.

As Bruce explored Clark's mouth, the Kryptonian had no problem figuring out how Bruce kept up such an impressive reputation. He was a really good kisser. Clark's tongue fought for dominance, and then lost shortly after because Batman doesn't lose. At anything.

The kiss grew more passionate as Clark's fingers tangled in Bruce's perfectly styled hair and Bruce's hands came around his waist to rest on his lower back. They fell back onto the bed and their make out session was immediately interrupted by their heads hitting the side of Clark's partly packed suitcase.

Laughing slightly, the two sat up, but they didn't resume kissing. Bruce was looking intently at the suitcase, and Clark ran a finger down Bruce's cheek. The billionaire turned his head back to face Clark, a questioning look in his eyes. Clark leaned his forehead against Bruce's, not breaking eye contact. "Tell me to stay. Tell me you want me to stay."

The corner of Bruce's lips curved up and he tilted his head to bury his nose in Clark's neck, inhaling his sent. "I want you to stay, Clark. Please," he whispered against the skin of Clark's neck.

Clark smiled again, running his fingers down Bruce's back in a slow, lazy motion. "Then I'll stay."


End file.
